Opening and Closing Doors

In my faith life I have opened and closed many doors. Some with a slam, some with a small click of the latch. Some with someone's foot firmly placed on the threshold. Life is composed of such things I think, opening and closing doors, windows, opportunities, lifestyles, whatevers. Some of the passages I've gone through should have been left alone. Some of them have been wondrous and God sent. Of course, you may argue that ALL were God-sent which is your privilege, but since this is my stream of thought, I'm sticking to my analogy. In the life of St. Marks, we have turned through passages sometimes facing forward and sometimes facing back. Today, we made a decision as a congregation which feels like a "facing forward" moment. In the world of fiscal responsibility, this was a good decision and well-thought out and explained by our council. We are indeed blessed with a congregational council that is willing to explore possibilities and be our representatives in the "running of the church". It was a good decision. Another congregation, just down the road had to make a decision. I don't know yet, what their decision was. But it was a hard one to make. I was briefly part of that community of faith before coming down the pike a piece. They are in a difficult place. The door is still swinging on its hinges whether to go this way or that. A friend of mine recently was officially declared divorced. The door in this case was shut while her foot was still on the threshold. She is smart, beautiful, funny and warm. She will be moving away from this rudely slammed door with her dignity in tact and her family and friends standing next to her, holding her hand and cracking smart aleck jokes to get that laugh out of her. But for me, this was a difficult door to watch close. I knew her ex. Okay, not well, apparently. But I thought I did. And he doesn't seem to be the same person he was before. I'm confused by his actions. I'm really annoyed on her behalf. I think I want some kind of closure, some kind of answer as to what happened, even though it didn't even happen to me. All those opening, but mostly closings has left me feeling somewhat scared and alone. It has reminded me that life is changing and it doesn't matter whether you are looking for change or not, it's gonna happen! And then I remembered the sermon today. The thought that Jesus is with us. Really with us, in person through all those in the pews and beyond. God was not brought into the world once and that was it. God is in the world, with us, if we but look through the doorway and see the faces on the other side. If we look to the right and left and see the faces of family in faith, we are not alone in the changes, in the closings, in the whatevers. God is with us. And no matter what door we face, whether open or closed, whether gilded or plain pine, whether in the church or out, NOTHING can separate us from the love of God. That was a promise made a long time ago. So I guess I'll keep opening and closing the doors as I go along. I just have to remember that someone is standing next to me as the next threshold comes into focus. And he's going through it with me whether I remember he's there or not.

We're in This Together, right?

The flowers are blooming. The trees are festooned in their Easter finery. The grass is coming up, mostly green. Earth is renewing itself even as we wake each day. The Easter story reminds us that new life comes out of even the worst tragedies. And that the love of God for all of creation is affirmed. Yeah, yeah, "alls right with the world." But the world is not alright all the time, is it? Even Spring brings about hay fever or whatever other allergies happen to lurk with the new found airborne pollen. I wish I could remember all that great stuff about Easter all during the week. Sometimes I can't even make it through a Sunday! And those buttons and bracelets that proclaim, "What Would Jesus do?", well, they just aren't helpful to me. What Jesus would do and what I do are sometimes diametrically opposed! But the idea behind that saying is probably a good one. If we could remember that Jesus was about loving your neighbor, about listening to your fellow man (or woman), about being a servant instead of the one being served, that would be great, wouldn't it? When I leave church, I usually feel pretty good about the world in general and people in the world as well. But then someone cuts me off in traffic and my rosy glow dims somewhat. And I see someone yelling at someone else or doing something not thinking of their actions and I'm once again "of the world" and not just in it. I can't keep my head in the clouds all the time. So what can I do? Well, one thing I can do is this: I can pray more often. Hunh? Yep, I said pray. See that kneeling down and getting the posture right thing isn't the idea Jesus had in mind when teaching us about communication. I think we need to communicate better with God. And that means talking to the Almighty in the car, in the grocery store and even on the street. Before you put me away in a padded cell, though, hear me out. I'm not necessarily talking about well, talking out loud--although I guess if you felt called to do that...who am I to judge? I was thinking more along the lines of that silent commentary we have running through our minds at any time of the day. Wouldn't it be great if instead of thinking that so-and-so could use a new haircut, we would instead ask God to re-direct our thoughts to something more constructive instead of destructive? What if instead of saying to ourselves, "God, I am so useless" we thought, "God, use me as your instrument today." What if we would instead channel our thoughts to not necessarily What Would Jesus Do, but What Would Jesus Have me do? There's a world of difference with those last three words added. And it's worthy of consideration I think. What would Jesus have me do today? The next hour? The next day, week, month, year? So hooray for Spring, allergies and all. And Alleluia for Easter! And let's look for a new beginning this year. A new outlook. A new prayer life and direction. I'm all for it, how about you?

The End of Lent

I didn't do what I said I was going to do for Lent. I didn't really pay attention every day to the miraculous. I got sidetracked. The problem with the "looking for the amazing among the mundane" is that the mundane can be almost fascinating in its appearance. It can keep you from noticing those things like the fact that you can breathe and move and have our being. I kept being distracted. And then things happened to help me focus again. I'm writing about them not because I want your sympathy, although that would be nice, too. I'm writing about them because Lent is ending and it seems fitting to bring it up. About a month ago a woman died with whom I was friends. She wasn't my best friend. We frequently didn't talk for months. She was on my personal prayer list though. She had cancer in so many places I think in some ways I was afraid to be near her, as if I could catch it by contact. She was a gracious person. Even when it hurt to hug her, she embraced you warmly in greeting. Her eyes would light up when she saw someone she knew and she would become animated and joyful. Until that last week. Nothing could punch the wall then. It was too much pain, too much of a long struggle. Just too much. I kept in contact with her through some of her other friends. I listened to reports of her decline. I waited for the phone call to come and it came. She was well liked and respected. She was a "Godly" person and a good one as well--that doesn't always happen as we well know. And after her death, the daffodils came up in our yards. I had cut a bunch for her at this time last year and brought them around. When I saw those yellow nodding crowns I was frozen in the spot. How could she not be here for the daffodils, I thought? The season of Lent is ending for another year. Easter will be upon us next week. And she is not here for the joyful celebration of the resurrection. But then, she is, too. She's probably enjoying the biggest party in heaven as the world resounds with Alleluias. Because for her, the Lord is risen. He is risen, indeed. And she is there to see him this year. Can't think of anybody else who should be there more than her right now. So party on Elaine! The second thing which distracted me, was another death. This one was sad, but I wasn't as close to this other person as I was to the first. She was an okay person I guess. She was a teacher to both of my children in elementary school. But one of her most ardent supporters and care-givers is a friend of mine. She is generous to a fault. And so caring I look like Attila the Hun in comparison. She had given of her time, her love, her compassion, her warmth and wit so unselfishly to this person, that I was in awe. And when her friend died and left her, she was very empty. She still struggles with the emptiness of the situation. I'm not as good a friend as she, I know. But I tried to listen to her when I can. I try to encourage her when I can. Can you image how it was for Mary Magdalene to get to the tomb and find it empty? She was already feeling the emptiness. Her very good friend wasn't there to talk to anymore. He wasn't there to explain things or help to guide her or even to make light-hearted banter with her. My friend probably feel like Mary. And so I'd like to remind her that Easter comes to all of us, eventually. And that the emptiness and sorrow she feels today will probably grow less and less until the day when she is reunited with all the saints. Just a thought about Lent.

Where are you?

Recently, I experienced something that was bad. Very bad. The people around me who are faith filled people hugged me, reminded me of beloved scripture verses, listened. They handed me tissues, a shoulder to lean on and a pillow to punch. I felt loved and comforted by them and thanked God for leading them to me at just the right time. But when I was alone, I quickly reverted back to the frightened follower I always seem to be. By myself, I'm a coward. I find myself afraid of so many things and when I'm afraid I seem to worry more. Does everyone do that? I have read a few devotionals recently that reminded me that worrying never solved anything and it seems almost to be a slap in the face to the Lord. I don't think I can afford to diss the Almighty. So I'm trying to worry less. But fear makes me lonely too. The God of our ancestors seemed to real to them. So present. When bad things happen, I don't always feel the Spirit's presence. And I wonder is that because I'm looking too hard, expecting something tangible. Our faith family in the past must have been able to rely on something to help them feel God's presence. I've tried walking a labyrinth, lighting candles and meditating, tried to close the doors and seek the Lord in my solitude. And almost always, I still feel alone and worried. And that's when I remind myself: when things were really bad, my faith family was right there with me. And when things aren't really, really bad but just well, kind of not great, they are right there as well. The Spirit moves in them the same as it does in times of crisis. I found that reaching out with a simple request was just as effective as sobbing on someone's shoulder. I need to remember to stop trying to solve everything myself. And although that trite saying, "Let go and let God," still is sort of like fingernails on a chalkboard sometimes, it's also true sometimes as well. And so I will talk to my friends in faith and trust them to help me lift myself out of my funk. And they will help me to laugh and remind me that God is present at all times and in all ways. And I am not alone.

Winsome?

I was reading from William Barclay today about the book of Acts. Before I get rolling, I would like to suggest that if ever you wanted to read some superb explanations of the New Testament, Barclay is your man! He brings about a clarity, at least for me that I don't have a lot of times.

Anyway, the passage he was writing about was Acts 2: 42-47, that marvelous passage which talks about the new church and how the newly hatched Christians were with one another and with everyone they met. The verses talk about their sharing, their giving, their camaraderie and their joyous participation in all of this. And it was then that I was struck with Barclay's explanation of the early Christians based on what verse 46 states. It says that the early church was a happy church. Barclay says the following, "Real Christianity is a lovely thing. There are so many people who are good, but with their goodness possess a streak of unlovely hardness. Struthers of Greenoch used to say that it would help the Church more than anything else if Christians ever and again would do a bonnie thing. In the early Church there was a winsomeness in God's people."

A "winsomeness" in God's people. Winsome means-according to the dictionary--charming, with an attractiveness of appearance or manner. What if more people wanted to be like Christians because of what they see when they see us in action? Wouldn't that be great? What if being a Christian in today's world meant more along the lines of "come join us in our attractiveness" than "don't bother, you're not good enough"? Too often Christians are so busy building fences, then we forget to erect ways to climb the fence. We are so busy making sure everything is right according to "the good book" that they forget that the book is for everyone, especially someone who has never heard it before. And that there might not be a right way to either read it or understand it except that it gets read? What a concept! And what if, we made being a Christian such an attractive, warm, loving place, people just started showing up because it felt right that way?? What if? Let's try to be winsome, bonny, Christians. I would like a little more laughter, please and a little less scowling when the service doesn't look, sound or flow the same. A little more smiles, a little less frowns. A lotta more love. That's what the church needs. Wouldn't you agree?

Finding the time

The problem with things spiritual is this: they don't feel required. It doesn't feel like you have to take time out of your busy schedule to stop and pray or contemplate or commune with nature. No one, at least no one I'm acquainted with in my faith life, is threatening me with anything if I don't stop and pray, contemplate or commune. I can go days without realizing that I have not stopped to do these things. Lent is a season to make yourself stop. To become disciplined. To make time. My mother quoted me something she read during her devotions about coming to a speed bump and it made me realize that I do not have any speed bumps in place lately. I have repaved the roads and they are unimpeded until I feel like stopping. I'm not sure this is a good thing. In fact, I'm pretty sure it isn't a good thing. We need time to stop and reflect and yes, there's that word again, contemplate. Everyone needs to do this in one way or another. Even Jesus had to take some time out to talk to Dad once in a while. I'm going to try to build in some stopping places during Lent this year. Because I haven't done so yet, if you notice me zooming by, stick out your foot. I don't want to take a tumble, but perhaps I need to in order to remember who it is that gave me the energy to keep going. And keep me in your prayers, too. And watch out for stop signs and speed bumps.

It's Astonishing, Really

I was lamenting somewhere else about the fact that every day seems to be like every other day lately. There were a few who argued with me and tried to get me to admit that each day was a miracle. They are the people who invariably see a rainbow in every rainstorm and see the beauty in the seventh snow of the season. I am not one of them. I probably never will be. But it is true that there is something completely amazing about the fact that the sun does come up every day and the moon comes out every night. The fact that I can put one foot in front of the other as I walk from my bedroom to the kitchen and even walk about my workplace. I have these wonderful digital devices in my ears which enable me to hear things that I would not be able to hear otherwise. Some inventive person thought up the device and I own them! It's marvelous really.

When we stop being so surprised by the everyday? When did the fact that babies are born and flowers come up every spring and rain falls from the sky stop being amazing and start being mundane? I think it started when we were growing up and we could take things for granted, things like sunshine and puppies and new mechanical devices.

And so this Lent, I'm going to try being aware and awake. Seeing the new and the old as something worthy of notice. I hope you will join me in rediscovering the miraculous of the everyday.